


Three Sentence Fills

by unsettled



Category: Sherlock Holmes (2009)
Genre: M/M, Three Sentence Fills
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-08
Updated: 2011-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-15 12:06:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/160671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsettled/pseuds/unsettled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gathering up my fills from the three sentence meme on Blackwood/Coward, in groups of ten.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1-10

Sickeningly sweet Valentine’s day fic -

When Daniel blushed like that, Henry tended to think it rather suited him. And what better to make him turn such a lovely shade, than a dozen roses, the hue of pooled blood, presented on the hour, every hour by one of the the body slaves, accompanied by notes detailing exactly _what_ Henry was going to do to him later.

And Daniel may have blushed fiercely, under the eyes of the court, but who would dare question their ruler's consort.

*

A bit darker than your traditional Valentine’s day -

As always, it seemed that many were taking advantage of the sickening sweetness of the holiday to offer various trifles, small tokens, things created with little care to convey their 'deep and abiding love'.

He'd never bothered to cheapen Coward with such things. Better to give him the blood between their palms, the chain around his neck, the surety of his devotion.

*

Blackwood calls Coward Kitten, Coward reacts how? -

When Blackwood rises, Coward mutters, half awake, and rolls over into the warm hollow left behind; stretches, the lean muscles of his legs and arms flexing, and then curls back into a ridiculously small ball.

Blackwood cups Coward's face in his palm, drags his fingers down that stubbled cheek; "Like a kitten," he murmurs.

Coward slants a look at him, and nips at the pads of his fingers.

*

"Aristocrats of emotions." -

Coward was far too refined, well bred, brought up too properly to ever feel something as filthy, demeaning, animal-like as rage, as lust, as fear. Blackwood, however, had that drop of base blood in him, the slow spreading taint that let such low born passions rise with a startling quickness in him.

Coward may have never allowed himself to feel the stirrings of such things, but he shudders in the wave of emotion that pours off Blackwood, drawn in, hungry.

*

Blackwood/Coward - contaminant cadences -

They don't fit together, not really; Coward laughs at him, and he wants to spill too much of that fine blue blood on the sheets, and the beats of their hearts never align properly. There's nothing to keep this - he can't even call it a passion, it's so cold, so sharp - going, not even the simpleness of convenience.

Yet again, and again, and again, he'll find his breaths matching to Coward's as he sleeps within the circle of Blackwood's arms, and he'll feel the creeping of something strange and dark and clinging, like the taste of honey on his tongue, a want; Coward's returned some part of him, tainted, and he cannot want to leave.

*

Blackwood and Coward - turns out they're _not_ very good parent material. -

Yes, it's all very well and good to finally have an heir to Blackwood's rule, Coward is well aware of that, _thankyouverymuch_ , but is it really _necessary_ that he hold the screaming creatures? True, it wasn't screaming at the moment, but that's the problem with babies, isn't it, that you never know when they're about to do something _vile_.

"Isn't he lovely?" Blackwood says in a voice that's far from his usual tone, and Coward shudders.

*

Sleepwalking :D -

He'll never forget the first time he woke to a chilled bed and smell of copper and a taste of _wrongness_ to the air. He'd looked up; seen the dull gleam of blood on silver metal, and his heart hadn't started beating again until he realized the blood wasn't Coward's.

He's had to learn to keep his knives in a locked drawer, at night.

*

Blackwood/Coward - Femininity -

One might think Henry is far too tall, too lean, too utterly masculine to look anything other than ridiculous like this, but Coward - Coward has learned otherwise. Has learned how quickly his mouth goes dry and his cock rises, at the sight of Henry like this, fine, sheer silk under his fingers as he runs them up Henry's legs, the teasing strip of skin revealed by the crossing laces of the corset. Has learned, too, how much he loves to hear Henry gasp, when he pulls those laces tighter, instead.

*

Blackwood/Coward - catch a train -

"I've," and Coward halfheartedly pushes a little at Blackwood, drags his mouth away, wet, gasping his words, "I've got to go, _we've_ got to, the train won't wait..."

"Sod the train," Blackwood growls, and bites at Coward's lip; Coward whines, quietly, and can feel his resistance crumbling. "If it won't wait for the bloody king, then what's the point of having a private car?"

*

Blackwood/Coward - little bird -

The bones of Coward's wrists grind together under his hands, accompanied by the high, halting little sounds of suppressed pain; hollow, brittle little things, like bird bones, so breakable. The temptation is to grip a little harder, to wrench a little further, to feel the snap under his palm and in Coward's breaths; but no.

He lets go, completely, and trapped, caged little thing that he is, Coward sways forward, wrist offered back up for more.


	2. 11-20

Garden -

In the spring, when it gets warm enough, Blackwood leaves the windows open, and Coward can smell the strong perfume of flowers from the garden his room overlooks. He can almost see them from the smells, bright, heavy with blooms, can almost feel the closely clipped, sun warmed grass on his bare feet.

He longs for just a glimpse, but his chain always stops him just shy of the window.

*

Hans/Mark. Mark gets a motorcycle, Hans is seduced. -

He doesn't say no when Mark asks him if he wants a ride, with that grin of a kid with a new toy, fingers resting lightly on the gleaming black curve of the motorcycle; he doesn't say yes either, but when Mark swings one long leg over the seat, Hans finds himself seated behind him, pressed close.

Mark smells of new leather, and sweat, and Hans barely notices the blur of the world passing, all his thoughts locked on the calming rise and fall of Mark's breath where Hans' arms were locked around his waist.

His collar is only half folded up; from where Hans has his chin not quite resting on Mark's shoulder, he can almost taste that patch of skin, almost, almost, so close -

and instead, he turns his head away, to press his ear to Mark's chest, where he can hear the beat of his heart above even the hungry roar of the engine.

(...ok I may have fucked grammar over there a little but then again, maybe not. *cobb squint*)

*

The dirty little reminders left the next day. (i.e. bite and scratch marks, bruises...) -

Coward has the sharpest little teeth - and the sharpest nails; sometimes, Blackwood thinks about reprimanding Coward, or of placing his hands, his mouth, out of reach.

But while it's lovely, the the bruises that mar Coward's wrists after that, the way Blackwood will catch Coward curling his fingers around them, pressing them the next day, he almost prefers knowing there's a barely scabbed bite under the corner of his collar, placed just barely out of sight by Coward, being able to shift his shoulders and feel the low edge of pain from still raised scratches.

It's a toss up, really.

*

Dentistry -

Coward hums, a bit, as he rolls the skull between the palms of his hands; it's small, gleaming; a few days ago it had been covered with fine dark hair.

Children go missing so easily, have so many accidents.

Henry watches Coward pull tiny white teeth, listens to them hit the floor like coins; he's reminded of pulling petals off flowers, _helovesmehelovesmenot_ , and for a moment, is content in Coward's happiness.

*

Blackwood/Coward - Henry told him to leave his boots on. -

The sounds were lovely - the dull snap of bone, something softer, tacky, sticky that was the blood drawing out between boot heel and floor, the deep, wrenching noises in Henry's throat, muffled by the gag.

There'd be bright bursts of mottled blood under the skin, on Henry's abdomen, tomorrow, and Coward had a doctor standing by to reset those fine fingers, but now - now was for the pure pleasure of it, this creature beneath his feet.

After all, Henry _told_ him to leave the boots on.

*

Opium -

It's sweet, alluring; He knows Henry hates it when he looks up at him with unfocused eyes and the taste of something not quite sugar in his mouth, but it doesn't stop Henry from fucking him like that, dazed and pliant and quiet - or maybe not that quiet, but he's never aware of the low, constant, hitching moans he's making until Henry covers his mouth.

He knows Henry hates it, and he hates it for that as well, but in the end, it's worth it for the few moments he has of stillness, the beast curled up in his chest not throwing screaming, foaming fits of emotion, not shifting between rage and fear and lust and a deep wounding _want_ and every other emotion so fast that the walls start cracking.

When it allows him to forget Henry's disappointment, it's more than worth it.

*

"No one can make you feel inferior without your consent." -

So his mother had drilled into him, stern, arched eyebrows and disdain in her voice, that anyone, anyone, could ever make one bearing such _noble_ blood feel _inferior_.

He sailed through life on this thought, with chin tilted up and his eyes sliding over anyone who dared try and hold him back, dared hold themselves over him, and oh, how the spoils fell into his hands.

Henry need only whisper a half silent 'slut' into the nape of his neck, and he is falling, filthy, to his proper place; far, far inferior to Henry.

*

Blackwood/Coward...Tracing the miles to where you are. -

It's just paper; heavy, thick paper of such quality only those of endless wealth can so easily dispose of it, but still, only paper. As they are only words, penned onto it, words that blur and become meandering pathways of black and white when he runs his fingers over them, the faint indentations of nibs, pressed too hard.

Only words, only paper, only scented so slightly with some foreign tang, but it is enough to settled the tight, empty feeling in his chest when he remembers that the other side of the bed is empty for another two months.

*

chubby!Coward -

There's a roundness to Coward, a fullness, a certain ... fleshiness, that's infinitely appealing. He likes to grip Coward's upper arms and feel the give of flesh, the satisfaction of the marks that remain where he has dug his fingers in; likes to bite at Coward's hips and be able to settle his teeth into that firmness; likes to to splay his hands on the soft, vulnerable stomach, curved almost like a woman's.

He makes sure Coward never misses a meal.

*

a sideburn grooming disaster -

Coward jumps when Henry knocks over a whole - well, he doesn't have a clue what Henry knocked over to make a noise that loud, but he can't really look right now because he's far too busy staring at the mirror in horror.

Maybe he can cover it up...

"You look like a complete twit," Blackwood says with a laugh, and Coward buries his half shaved face - with a huge _chunk_ out of his sideburn - in his face and groans.


	3. 21-30

Blackwood makes Coward's angst go away with kisses. -

He could be wrong.

He could be wrong, and all this could be a mistake, and maybe he shouldn't have said anything, done anything, shouldn't have even looked at Henry when he knows it must be so clear in his gaze, must be so apparent what he's wanting, what he's holding tucked in safe, hidden, in his chest.

He could be wrong; and then, then, Henry pulls him in a little closer and there's lips on his and maybe _he wasn't wrong_.

*

Jizz -

Coward moans around Blackwood's cock, and the feel of it is just on the far side of too much; he pulls away, too late, and Coward cries out sharply, startled, as the come hits his face, trails down his cheeks. He brings a hand up, eyes still closed, coated, and starts to wipe at them shakily; Blackwood growls a ' _no_ ' and catches his wrist.

Shoves him back, down, spread out on the floor and near sobbing, and that's when he notices Coward's stomach is already sticky with come.

*

Toys -

From up here, they all look so small, like little toys; toys that should be moving at his will, at his whims.

Yet they aren't.

He turns, dropping the useless controller, and tries not to think of what else he is leaving behind, staring up at him with shining, faith filled eyes.

*

This is a gift, it comes with a price -

He should have known better, accepting all those little things from Henry; if he pretended it was _just because he loves me, because he wants to shower me with gifts_ , then he didn't have to think that there would be a price to pay for his comfort, his safety.

Wouldn't have to think it wasn't because he was loved, but rather, because he was lovely, because he was usable.

So when Henry decides it's time for Coward to pay for his amenities, he may protest, may fight, may act as though he hasn't been expecting this; but then, he suspects Henry won't believe him for an instant - or even care.

*

My boy builds coffins -

He's had to be creative, dealing with Nicholas; it wouldn't be convenient to have him see the coffin Henry sleeps in each day.

He still fears Nicholas suspects something, but it comes as a shock all the same, the morning he come in the find Coward perched on the edge of the coffin, feet swinging and a knife in one hand.

Henry stares as Coward pricks his own thumb, pops it into his mouth and smears his lips with blood; "Can I sleep with you?" he asks.

*

Coward really believes Blackwood has magical powers. -

"But surely, it'd be so easy, Henry, just, however it works, snap your fingers and-"

And he hates to do it, he hates to, because _look_ at the way Daniel is looking at him, alight, vividly alive, but what else can he do, what else?

"It doesn't work like that, Daniel, it's not that simple; and it's no use trying to explain it to you - you wouldn't understand," and no, no, his heart _doesn't_ fall along with Coward's expression.

*

"I don't believe it," he tells Blackwood, defiantly; "I don't believe for a _second_ that there's anything more than - than smoke and mirrors, to your 'magic'.

He half expects Blackwood to snarl at him, sneer disdainfully, but instead -

Instead, he opens his palm, and a sphinx made of pale lines of fire and light and something blindingly gorgeous rises up, curls its tail around its front paws lazily, and blinks back at him when he gasps in delight.

*

(Blackwood and Coward weren't in a relationship, but Coward was pining.) Coward gets a few moments alone with Blackwood's body. (No full-on necrophilia, please.) Just a gentle touch or a kiss that he wouldn't have been brave enough to do when Henry was alive.

It hadn't been easy, and to be completely honest, he didn't even know why he was doing this, what he was looking for, sneaking around for a few moments with Henry's - with Henry's - with -

With that, on the slab, there, that decaying hulk of flesh, only it wasn't, it wasn't, it was _Henry_ , and somehow, somehow he hadn't believed it, despite everything, believed Henry was actually _dead..._

A touch, a finger brushing those cold, cold lips as he'd never dared to in life is all he allows himself, a whispered "Henry" all the words that he allows out; one small, small bit more, and he knows knows they'd find him still here tomorrow morning, curled up at the base of the slab and still sobbing.

*

Hans/Mark. Archie slap. In bed.

ALSO. DOES THAT NOT SOUND LIKE - NO, NVM.

"It was your idea to get Chinese," Hans says pointedly when he finds out Mark is ridiculously, hopelessly, adorably useless with chopsticks.

Mark glares at him and snaps open his fortune cookie instead, reading off the words with a distracted air; "You will have a lucky night!"

"In bed," Hans finishes automatically, and then can't stop laughing at the expression on Mark's face - right up until Mark kisses him silent.

*

I've seen you with someone else. -

Coward's eyes aren't wet; they're hard, cutting, _furious_. "I saw," he says, "I saw you with them, with someone else, with - I thought we-"

Blackwood doesn't laugh when he replies; "Why, _Daniel_ , did you really think I'd fuck only you?" and there, there, is where Coward reels back, where those eyes turn liquid, wounded.


	4. 31-40

Fairytales

Happy endings only happen in fairytales; or at least, that's what Coward tries to remind himself.

But it's hard to believe that this will end badly, when Blackwood kisses him like that, holds him not quite too tightly at night, tells him in a whisper almost to quiet to hear, _I love you._

Then again, it's hard to forget, staring at the body swinging slowly from the bridge.

*

Dog

*cough*

He'd never really thought of Coward as a dog person, much less a _small, fluffy_ dog person, yet the first time he visits Coward at home he finds himself inundated in sad eyed cavaliers. He can't escape from them even in town; there are two that never leave Coward's side when he's home.

All the same, he has to fight from blushing at Coward's grin when Coward catches him seated by the fireplace with the older spaniel curled up on his lap.

*

HEY. I FIGURED IT OUT. Haha. L-L-L-L-LAYOUT CHANGE

YOU BETTER BELIEVE I'M GOING TO TREAT THAT AS A PROMPT. :D

"Henry, Henry, I've figured it out, we won't need to take the mmmmppft."

Blackwood pulls back, unable to keep a slight smile off his face as he watches sense slowly come back to Coward's eyes; "We won't need what?" he asks.

Coward blinks, opens his mouth, and breathes out a shaky "uhhhhhh...".

*

Mark/Hans - Dirty picture -

Curiosity killed the cat, to be sure, but Hans doubts any cat ever found a picture of himself like this, spread out and naked and thoroughly fucked, on his co-star's phone.

"What," he asks, "is this?"

Mark peers at it and grins; "Well, it's certainly something lovely to look at, isn't it?"

*

Blackwood/Coward, When he first met Coward,he mistook him for a pretty girl. -

He doesn't remember the ritual calling for shorn hair, but he can't think of any other reason that lovely, pale skinned creature kneeling by the altar would have such short hair, dark, matte, infinitely touchable.

Touch it he does, as he steps up behind the girl, gathers it in his hand for an instant before he presses a boot heel between those delicate shoulder blades, watches her fold herself down, an exquisite canvas of curves and lean waist and full hips and -

And he was quite sure no female had a pair of _those_ , exposed and goose pimpled from the chill.

*

Domestic -

No matter what, no matter the circumstances, the difficulties, they always have breakfast together. It hadn't taken Coward long to learn exactly how Henry prefers his tea, and which paper he reads first, and that scones with currents are far preferred over those with raisins - and too, learn the way that Henry's foot would creep over to tap the toe of Coward's shoes, without him ever looking up.

He thinks that's almost the worst thing, when they take Henry to prison.

*

Blackwood/Coward, I saw the ending when they turned the page. -

"Behold, mine anger and my fury shall be poured out upon this place, upon man, and upon beast, and upon the trees of the field, and upon the fruit of the ground-"

He'd been watching Blackwood's hands while he spoke, afraid to let his gaze rest upon those eyes, those lips, fearful of giving himself away; Blackwood's voice pauses, and those fingers, momentarily unstained by blood turn the page. Coward glances up at the silence, and Blackwood catches his gaze; "and it shall turn, and shall not be quenched," he murmurs, his eyes never leaving Coward's, and Coward can already see that final inferno in them.

(Jer. 7:20)

*

Sideways -

Coward knows better than to do anything truly stupid in public, anything particularly exposing or revealing, nothing to threaten their reputations, to connect them at all.

But still, he glances at Blackwood, little, sideways flicks of his eyes, glances that drop away the instant Blackwood turns his attention to him. The same sideways glances he give Blackwood when he's amused, scornful, dismissive of his plans and being particularly languid and debauched, and they never fail to cause Blackwood's blood to boil.

*

I don't think that's sanitary. -

Coward grimaces in distaste; "I hardly think that's _sanitary_ ," he starts, and Blackwood hushes him with a glare.

He's not a generous man, to be sure, but everyone has their quirks, to be sure.

The ragged child takes the coins with wary, wide eyes, and runs the second they're firmly settled in its grubby hands.

*

I see the angels, I'll lead them to your door. -

He brings them to Henry, those fragile, beautiful creatures, brings them with smears of mud on the hems of their luminous raiments, brings them with soft words and praise for his visionary, eager to meet him.

In a week, they'll have enough heavenly feathers for a duvet; they'd have had enough already is Henry wasn't so messy.

Coward lights the blood soaked feathers, and they smell like burning flesh.


	5. Chapter 5

Touch me -

Coward's so _eloquent_ , so precise with his wording at all times - well; no, not at _all times_.

Take for instance, this moment, right here, after he's spent the better part of an hour telling Coward every little thing he'd like to do to him, how completely he'd like to debase him, use him, use him right up, and hasn't laid even a finger on Coward, hasn't even bothered to tie him, trusting that his word alone will keep Coward in place, and it has; Coward is anything but eloquent now, though, with his near incomprehensible please please please oh god touch me touch me fuck me please anything just touch me _please_.

He thinks he prefers these words; after all, they're honest.

*

 _And Juliet she's smoking by the window saying stone cold, "I believe in you Romeo" -_

Coward glances at him, dismissive, almost; "I have placed my trust in you, Henry, my faith. I believe in you; don't let me down."

Blackwood has never felt so scared in his life.

*

Bouncy -

Nicholas is very nearly vibrating in place, babbling half incoherently about something Henry can't begin to understand, waving his hands about and in general being so incredibly, obnoxiously, adorably, insanely bouncy that Henry feels about ready to knock him out for the sake of a moment of peace. He groans and presses his hand to his forehead, tilting his face down and conveniently hiding a smile as well.

How would have guessed Nicholas would have such a reaction to large quantities of sugar?

*

Show me your teeth -

Coward sits and heels and comes to hand as neatly as any trained pet, for all that he's wrapped round and round with the dignity and hauteur of any refined English gentleman, but Blackwood knows very well that Coward is nothing more than half tamed, if that. “Show me,” he says, watching the slide of Coward's eyes to the dead, to the barely breathing, the cruelty lacing his glance, the hunger welling in him to tear someone down to size, seize upon them and wreck havoc. “Show me your teeth, pretty boy.”

*

The silence scares me because it screams the truth -

Henry doesn't answer, but then, he doesn't have to answer; the silence is answer enough, is a harsh enough truth to cut him down.

“Did you ever care?” he breathes, hollowed out.

Silence answers him, once more.

*

“Stop stealing my awesome jokes!”

Coward isn't talking to him – hasn't been talking to him the whole ride – hasn't been talking to him the whole evening; this is definitely a pout of epic proportion. “What is it,” he asks, finally, exasperated, “that I have done to so infuriate you?”

Coward glares at him; “Stop stealing all my awesome jokes!”

*

Reincarnation -

Daniel asks him once, if he believes in reincarnation, and he stumbles, unprepared; “Yes,” he replies, “I suppose I do, as much as I believe in anything – the thought that if I fuck this life up irreversibly, I'll have another chance, is something of a comfort.”

Daniel had looked at him, ravenous; “But how will we find one another, next time, how would we ever make things right again without each other?” Kisses Henry with something sharp and ephemeral and whispers, whispers, “Too short, too short, Henry; mark me so you will know me, whatever form I may take, mark me as yours.”

*

Stealing kisses -

It's become something of a game; Coward gains one when he puts on his hat in the morning, Blackwood absconds with one in a corner in the halls of parliament. Coward steals a biscut and one at tea, and Blackwood retaliates by snatching one (and a fair bit more) behind a potted plant in a library, only to be outdone by Coward causally dropping his paper and bestowing one somewhat lower than usual.

The game continues all day; at night, they tally up their respective stolen kisses and return them to each other, with interest.

*

It's going to be alright, no matter what they say -

“Hush, my love,” Henry says, words far sweeter than Coward can ever remember hearing pouring from his mouth, and pulls him closer, closer. He can't get warm; Henry is so cold, so cold, so cold from the river and he hasn't even taken off his coat, sopping wet and freezing and “Hush, my love,” Henry says, “it will be alright in the end, no matter what you hear.

Coward nods, and huddles closer to the cold stone walls of his cell, and covers his ears.

*

Henry is afraid -

It's such a silly thing, that he never thought he'd suffer from; still, one cannot feel too ashamed for the slightest – _slightest_ \- bit of stage fright when faced with the entire parliament, about to them they are all a breath away from dying. But as all eyes turn to him, his throat closes and the words will not come, and he can think of nothing except for blind panic.

Then Coward catches his eye, smiling, confident in him, and so radiant that Blackwood must spend his energy on suppressing a smile instead of trembling legs.


End file.
